


New Kicks and Terrible Tricks

by Meginoi (Delirious99)



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious99/pseuds/Meginoi
Summary: Virgil had always loved skating, it was a part of his life and soul. Until he could no longer afford it and had to hang his skates up.Roman was born to be a skater, becoming the youngest ever Olympic figure skater at the age of seventeen.When Roman's parents decide Roman needs a break from the spotlight, Virgil and Roman's worlds will collide in a way neither thought would ever be possible.





	1. Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh i’ve had this on my mind for months and i finally got round to writing an intro. I probably shouldn’t have cause i have too many multi-chapters but oh well. I seriously owe seas-space-and-stardust on tumblr a gigantic thank you for helping me come up with the baseline for the entire fic.

Virgil Sanders had always loved skating, it gave him a sense of peace. Everything from the slight hiss they made as he glided across the ice, to the feeling of flying through the air never failed to calm his racing mind and never-ending whirlwind of thoughts. His parents had always encouraged him to take up a winter sport, in a way carrying on his father’s legacy. His father had the chance to be an Olympic gold medalist in snowboarding in the early nineties until an accident resulting in surgery had killed his career. His mother had been more academically inclined but supported his father throughout everything.

They had thought for sure their son would take an interest in snowboarding, just like his father. So, they were surprised when he had been mesmerized by the figure skaters on TV since before he could walk, confident that figure skating was what he wanted to do when he grew older. After buying him a pair of skates, his parents hadn’t been able to drag him off the ice.

Roman Prince had always been destined to be a figure skater. The child of an iconic Olympic skating duo, he had grown up around skating. Jetting off to many different competitions around the world was second nature to him. So, it was only logical when he had taken to the ice at eight years old he had like a duck did to water. It seemed solo figure skating was infused into his blood.

By eleven, Roman was competing nationally.

By eleven, Virgil’s parent’s realised they couldn’t afford for Virgil to pursue his dream professionally.

By seventeen, Roman was competing in the Olympics, one of the youngest ever competitors.

By seventeen, Virgil had hung up his professional skates and was starting his first part-time job.

By nineteen, Roman had won two Olympic gold medals in his first Olympic games. His popularity was rising quickly.

By nineteen, Virgil was working full time at the local ice skating rink, watching the skating classes from afar with a sombre expression. He had let go of skating as a hobby, the glide of his skates across the ice just reminding him that he could never truly put his heart and soul into it when it was resigned to being just a hobby. He hadn’t touched them in a year.

Virgil’s parents begged him to get back on the ice, even if it was just once. He refused, leaving his scuffed up skates hanging in the garage. Just the sight of them would cause an ache in his chest. The pain was too much, a lost dream was a horrible thing, and now he couldn’t even force himself to go into the garage.

Roman’s parents begged him to come off the ice, to hang up his shining skates, even if just for a little while. The sheer amount of media attention he was getting would take its toll on anyone, let alone a nineteen year old kid. His parent’s New York apartment was always surrounded by at least a few photographers, intent on documenting every second of Roman’s life. To others, his confidence turned to arrogance. Yet, his family life told a much different story.

Something had to be done, and it had to be done soon…


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i posted a poll earlier on tumblr and this was the most popular to have a new chapter for. I started it a week ago but i just really wasn’t feeling it. This is mostly set up so i hope it doesn’t suck!

Roman glared out of the car window as they sped through the countryside with its green fields that seemed to roll on forever. The sky was a cloudless baby blue, giving off a cheerful atmosphere, the usual for the current height of summer.

But Roman felt anything but cheerful.

His expression hadn’t changed from a scowl since his parents had ushered him into the car earlier that morning. Sure, he had known it was coming, the suitcases that had sat in his bedroom for the past few days had served as a painful reminder, but it was still a shock to his system when they had packed everything into the moving van and their car before speeding away from the New York apartment he had grown up in and gave him a comforting sense of home.

Ever since then, the car had been filled with a tense silence that was yet to be successfully broken. His parents had valiantly made efforts to start a conversation, but he had shot their attempts down with no reply. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about, his career was hitting it’s peak, and now they decide he needs a break, it bordered on villainous.

He sighed as his phone lit up with another message, adding to the steadily growing list of notifications. Rumours of his reason for taking a break from skating had been rife since the announcement and had sent his twitter notifications into overdrive. Stories ranging from an accident to a drugs scandal flooded his feed. If only they knew the disappointing truth, it was so mundane they probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Roman felt his stomach drop as the sat-nav told them to take a nondescript exit off the highway. Pine trees lining the highway broke off for the exit before returning again, lining each side of the road. The quiet slip road only served to make Roman feel all the more isolated, he thought they may as well have been travelling to Nowhere, Vermont. As they drove along the weaving road, the sky shifted from the cheerful baby blue to a dull grey. Oh, how fitting. The universe seemed intent on mocking his mood today.

Slowly, a town started to come into view on the horizon. Quaint little shops appeared as they passed the cheesy welcome sign and approached the town intersection. Roman felt anything but welcome. It wasn’t as…rustic as Roman had been dreading, people milled around as they passed a cinema, shopping centre, and…was that an ice rink?

Roman perked up, gazing at the building until it was no longer in sight. He would definitely be making plans to pay a visit to it later and keep up his rigorous daily training.

\-----

The house they pulled up to made Roman’s eyes widened in shock. It looked like something out of a classic novel. White steps led to a wrap-around porch, leaving space for a covered seating area each side. A set of two windows sat on each side of the red door, looking out onto the balcony and the front garden beyond it.

The second-floor windows were identical to the ones on the ground floor. They sat above the type of roof that you could easily climb onto and sit on. Roman thought they were perfect for escaping for late night escapades.  
Three third floor windows jutted out of the roof, smaller than the ones on the other two floors.

Roman stared in awe, each floor must be the size of his entire apartment! He didn’t know if he was just looking for problems now, but the intimidating size of the house only made it seem even more isolating to him.

He begrudgingly followed his parents as they clambered out of the car. The climate was warm, and the cool breeze did little to disperse the humidity that hung in the air. It made Roman feel stuffy as his simple t-shirt and jeans clung to him.

“Isn’t it just perfect, Roman? It’s just the thing we needed!” His mother exclaimed, already halfway up the path.

“Sure,” Roman sighed, slamming the car door and slinging his backpack onto the car door.

“Your mother’s right, Roman. You need some time away from the skating scene, it can be overwhelming.”

“What’s overwhelming is being taken away from everything I know,” Roman mumbled storming up the garden path. He made his way up the porch steps, which creaked ominously under his weight.

The slight click as the key turned in the lock made his gaze rise from the floorboards to the cherry red door in front of him.

“Ta-dah!” His mother proclaimed, dramatically throwing open the door and sweeping into the hallway. The open door cast a bright beam of light into the hallway, reflecting off the wooden floor. Roman crossed over the threshold, he noticed it was light and airy in the entryway, entirely lit by natural light. A square staircase stood to the right, the doorways to  
the front rooms on the left and right.

Roman dumped his backpack in the hall. The faint sound of the arrival of the moving truck drifted in from outside, as he moved into the front room. The lack of furniture made his footsteps echo on the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls. A large window stood to his right, looking out over the front garden, two more lined the wall in front of him, the fence easily visible. At the back of the room, a set of concertina doors separated the kitchen.

Roman stepped through them, into a kitchen that stretched along the width of the house. A large island stood in the middle, the lack of stools around it making it an odd sight. Marble desktops lined either side, breaking only for the doors, refrigerator and sink. The windows that lined the left side looked out onto a sloping garden, complete with a swimming pool, that was currently empty, and elevated deck.

Another concertina door stood at the other end of the kitchen, opening up to a room that was a flipped copy of the other front room, unimpressive to him due to a lack of furniture. The sound of voices made him wander back out to the hallway.  
Moving boxes sat in the hall, their destinations written on the side in block capitals, a writing style that was odd and unseemly to him but one he associated with his mother nevertheless.

He picked up one labelled ‘ROMAN’S ROOM’, slung his backpack onto his shoulder and trudged upstairs. The second floor seemed to be just as expansive as the second floor, a litany of doors dotted along a wide hallway, wide enough to easily fit two people passing in either direction. The polished floor and cream theme matched the first floor, making the house seem brighter than it probably was.

Yet, Roman carried on up the staircase, into the attic. The roof was sloped either side, and surprisingly light for the three small windows that looked onto the front yard. Another, larger window looked onto the backyard at the other end of the attic. It seemed to stretch along the entire length of the house, making it both long and wide. The plastered walls and carpeted floor were giveaways that the previous owner had converted the attic into a living space.

Roman dumped the box on the floor, his bag following seconds later. He sighed, looking around the room, his home for who knows how long, until his parents decided the break had been long enough.

He traipsed back down the stairs, knowing he’d be using his skating stamina to be running up and down the full length of the house multiple times.

\-----

The light had changed from and early morning glow hidden by clouds to bright afternoon sunlight in a blue sky by the time Roman dropped the last box on the floor. An array of boxes sat on the floor and around his furniture.

His bed and closets had been pushed towards the far end of the room, facing the stairs and three windows. A gaming chair sat at the other end, along with a flat screen tv. Boxes were scattered around the room, all labelled with his room and what they contained.

Roman let himself fall back onto the bed, letting the soft whir of the AC calm him, apart from that, there was silence. His parent’s voices didn’t carry from the first floor, letting him bask in the comforting silence for the first time today. The AC paired with the silence reminded him of home, back in New York.

Instead of wallowing in his self-made misery, he pulled his phone from his backpack and unlocked it. There was one thing that never failed to improve his mood. If he remembered properly, there was a skating rink a ten-minute walk away. Sure, his parents had enforced a no skating rule but they didn’t need to know, as far as they were aware he was going for a walk around town…nothing more.

He hurried over to one of the many suitcases he’d bought along, quickly unzipping and finding his skates that he’d smuggled in at the last minute. Shoving them into his backpack, he hopped down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He’d be skating again soon…


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i kinda dropped off the face of the earth for a week or two…sorry about that. College has been crazy busy getting coursework done but i’ve been super hyped to update this!

Virgil sighed, absentmindedly picking at his nails. The black nail polish was badly chipping, he’d need to get that fixed soon. He slouched behind the counter in the empty lobby, counting down the minutes until the end of his shift. Many days passed like this, there wasn’t a big demand for ice skating in his small town.

The sun outside shone brightly in a clear sky, an increasingly often occurrence that Virgil hadn’t taken a liking too. The sun had an annoying habit in the afternoon of shining directly into the lobby of the skating rink, sending the glare right into his eyes and leaving him squinting with sun spots dancing in his vision. His hand rose instinctively, everything seeming that slight bit darker after being slightly blinded.

The telltale click and smack of the front door opening before slamming shut again forced his hand down to his side as Virgil seamlessly slid into the fake customer service persona. He was instantly blinded again by the blasted sun but who cared if he couldn’t see whoever had walked in, as long as no one complained.

“Hi, how can I help you today?”

“Oh, hello there! I’m looking to skate for a few hours.”

Strange…Virgil could have sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“Sure. The rink closes in two hours so it’ll be ten dollars for a two hour skate and a five dollar skate rental fee-“

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I have my own,” the stranger interrupted, digging into what looked like the outline of a bag and pulling out what looked like a blurred pair of ice skates to Virgil. Well, that was new. No one in town visited the rink often enough to have their own pair of skates, a newcomer?

“Uhhh, sure…that’s just ten dollars then.”

The stranger nodded, sliding a bill across the counter towards Virgil and hiking his bag back onto his back and walked, more like strutted, toward the doors that led to the rink.

Virgil stared after the retreating figure in shock, his mind whirling as he tried to place the voice he had heard. It had sounded so familiar, like an old friend, one with that type of voice you would never be able to forget but would struggle to place after a fair few years. Had Virgil known him? No, that was impossible, he had hardly been further than fifty miles out of town in the nineteen years he’d been alive, with the exception of visiting distant relatives once or twice. No, if Virgil knew him it must be from inside the town border, but someone like that wouldn’t easily slip his gaze. The small town wasn’t exactly a tourist hotspot either. He couldn’t understand it at all.

Through the glass in the doors, he could see the stranger that had sent him into a whirlwind of confusion gliding effortlessly across the ice. He seemed to be warming up, easily moving into a one-foot spin to skate backwards and throwing his arms out as he did laps around the otherwise empty rink. Virgil watched with interest, how he missed the feeling of his skates smoothly sliding across the ice as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The way it made him feel weightless as the wind rushed past him. But he couldn’t go back, it would be too painful. He looked away, he’d rather stare into the sun again than relive the memories of hanging those skates up.

The sun rose higher before it started to fall, casting an orange hue over the town as it sat on the horizon. Virgil sighed and glanced at his watch. Five minutes until closing. He’d have to kick that guy out soon. He turned his gaze back to the transparent doors.

Virgil’s interest was piqued when the stranger abruptly slowed to a stop at the far end of the rink. He turned from where he had been zipping from either side of the rink to face the expanse of ice in front of him. He bolted forward, quickly gathering speed. To Virgil’s shock, he turned and launched himself into a loop jump, completing the three and a half revolutions before his skates made contact with the ice once more.

At first, Virgil thought he had fallen. His left leg seemed to buckle at the knee and bend. Virgil felt a rush of panic through his veins and rushed forward, opening one of the see-through doors and hovering in the doorway. That was, until he extended his free leg and rested in a basic sit spin. He seemed to spin for what seemed like forever, eventually coming to a stop. Virgil had expected him to stumble when he stood, yet he rose with no sign of dizziness.

That was when his gaze met Virgil’s.

Virgil took a step back, considering running and acting as though he had never been watching with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Yet, he stopped in his tracks when the stranger spoke.

“Like what you see?”

He definitely knew that voice from somewhere. Virgil shrugged, nonchalantly crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. “I’ve seen better.”

“Oh really? I’d beg to differ.”

“Well, you could have extended you leg more in that sit spin. You could have easily gotten two more spins out of it.”

The stranger skated to the exit, carefully stepping onto the concrete floor. “Sounds like you know your stuff. You skate?”

Virgil shook his head. “Not anymore.”

The man sat on one of the many pull-down seats, swapping the skates for a pair of converse as he placed the safety guards back onto the blades and put them into his backpack. He jogged up the steps, stopping a few feet from Virgil. “I’m Roman,” he held out his hand, “I’m new in town.”

So he was new! “I’m Virgil,” he replied, accepting the handshake, “I can’t help but think that I know you from somewhere.”

The stranger chuckled, adjusting his grip on his backpack.

Virgil mentally facepalmed, why did he say that?! That probably sounded so creepy coming from someone he’d barely met.

“Well, let me know if you figure it out,” the stranger smiled. The tell-tale ding of a text message sounded from the pocked of his backpack. He cursed quietly, digging through the bag for it before looking over the message and locking the screen again. “I should go, but I hope to see you again soon.”

Virgil stepped to the side, allowing him to pass. “See you round, Roman.” The front door slammed from somewhere behind him and Virgil sighed. Well, Roman was certainly interesting. Virgil didn’t know if he was dreading or looking forward to their next encounter, if there was one.

Yet, the thought of knowing Roman before still plagued him. Everything from his voice and the way it could change from a higher pitched tone of intrigue, or maybe slight offence, to that deeper tone of a casual conversation to the way he skated across the ice as if it was second nature stirred a memory in Virgil. It was on the tip of his tongue, he knew it!

This time, he’d make sure he didn’t forget Roman so easily.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason i had real struggles with this chapter. That’s why it took so long to get to you guys (I’m also working on a number of collaboration and independent ideas so i’m trying to work on a number of projects)

Virgil slung his backpack over his shoulder and pulled the staff room door closed. The ice rink was eerie when it was empty, which was one of the many reasons why Virgil despised working the closing shift. He practically raced through the building from the staff room to the entrance, switching off each light as he went.

Once the lock on the front door clicked into place he breathed a sigh of relief. He fidgeted with his backpack before setting off along the still busy main street. Chatter and laughter poured from the open doors of the restaurants and bars he passed, the Friday night feeling bringing everyone out of their homes. Virgil paid the noise no mind, his thoughts were elsewhere.

Thoughts of Roman plagued his mind. Why did he seem so painfully familiar to him? The answer was on the tip of his tongue, he just knew it. Yet, every time he drew close to it the thought was ripped away again.

The walk from the ice rink to his home gave him ample time to think. The sunset would have turned into a dark sky dotted with stars by the time he reached his house on the other side of town. Sure, it was a bit of a walk and Virgil was never one for strenuous physical activity but the walk was nice, it gave him time to let the cool breeze sweep the mind numbing events of work from his mind. However, as he walked down the path filled with flowerbeds and into his parents house he was no closer to solving the mystery that was Roman.

The cheery voice of one his fathers instantly rang out as he slammed the door closed. “Virgil, you’re home!”

“Yeah, dad. It’s me.”

“I agree that your return is a conclusively joyful one but please try to keep the door slamming to a minimum when closing the front door please,” another voice rang out from the kitchen.

“Sure, Pa,” Virgil sighed, dumping his bag in the hallway and making his way into the kitchen. The hallway and kitchen were filed with the smell of homemade spaghetti and meatballs, one of the best meals in the world, in Virgil’s opinion.

“So, how was work kiddo?” His dad asked as he mulled around the room, hopping between the chopping board and and the two frying pans that were sitting on a low heat.

“Eh, it was okay, nothing special.” That wasn’t the entire truth and Virgil knew it, the last few hours of his shift had been a lot more…interesting. “Will you call me when dinners ready?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” his Pa replied. Virgil nodded and turned away, taking the stairs two at a time. He had some thinking to do.

The sound of his bedroom door slamming closed (along with another warning about slamming doors from his Pa) was music to his ears.  _Alone at last._

Virgil dropped down onto his bed, his hands resting behind his head. This was his safe haven, the one place he could let the noise and chaos of everyday life wash away just relax.

Yet _,_ he felt anything  _but_  relaxed, his mind still focused on the elusive Roman. Roman was an enigma, something that Virgil had never encountered before. He had always been quite good at reading people’s emotions, a skill he had learnt from his dad, which had helped him get through high school relatively unscathed.

But Roman…Roman was different. Out on the ice he had seemed happy yet sad for a moment. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Roman loved skating, you don’t learn to land a 3 and a half revolution loop jump overnight, yet for a split second there was something else there, some melancholy air the Virgil couldn’t quite identify. It was only a slight shift, blink and you would miss it, but it had definitely been there and that made Virgil’s mind wonder.

Why had it been there? What had triggered it? Was it a thought? A memory? Was he going somewhere that would stop him skating? That seemed unlikely, Virgil had never seen him before and if he was just passing through it was illogical to stop for hours just to ice skate.

The one thing that Virgil was sure of was that he was overthinking the whole situation. He would have to wait until he saw Roman again, if he saw Roman again.

Virgil guessed he would have a similar look in his own eyes if he took to the ice again. Like reuniting with an old friend that you would have to part from again soon. His thoughts drifted to the ice skates that hung over a hook in the coat cupboard, slowly being coated with a layer of fine dust since his dad had saved them from the trash can that Virgil had thrown them in after realising his dream was impossible.

He sighed, Roman’s skates had seemed so perfect and pristine, so unlike his own battered and scuffed ones. They must have cost a lot of money, money neither Virgil or his parents had.

The distant call for dinner made him sit up, resting back on his hands for a moment as his gaze drifted to the tv at the end of his bed and the poster above it.

He froze.

His eyes widened. No, it was impossible. It had to be a lookalike or something. A million thoughts and excuses ran through his mind, anything that would reassure him that it wasn’t who he thought it was taped to his wall.

A poster of Roman was taped to the wall above his TV. The camera had caught the skater in his final pose, one arm held high above his head and the other curled into his chest. His back was arched slightly, his gaze directed to the ground. Yet, a bright smile his up his face. The way the red and white on his suit shined only added to the royal air he gave off.

Virgil’s eyes slid to the name printed below, and he was sure he felt his heart momentarily stop as he read the words:

_Roman Prince._


End file.
